


Rubber Ducky, You're the One

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Gen, Imprinting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick and Tim have a run-in with a goofy, Easter-themed wizard, and they learn the hard way why you should never break a wizard's wand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rubber Ducky, You're the One

Dick frowns as he dodges another one of the angry wizard’s attacks; the colorful sparkling beam shoots by his head and hits a stray trash can, instantly turning it into a candy bar. He’s beginning to notice a pattern – all inanimate objects being hit by the wizard’s spells are transformed into candy wrappers, plastic eggs, and other Easter-related merchandise, and to top it off the wizard himself is dressed as a giant Easter Bunny. So far, none of the attacks have managed to hit any living organisms, and Dick really doesn’t want to see what will happen if one does.

He drops down behind the wizard, hitting him right in the shoulder blade and then in the back of his knees in quick succession, and then quickly leaps away before the deranged bunny-man can retaliate. The wizard stumbles, tripping over the large feet of his bunny costume, then topples to the ground. Dick swoops in and grabs the magic wand (shaped like a giant carrot) before the magic-user can continue to attack, and snaps the device in half. Instantly, it begins sparking, and Dick drops it and leaps away as its owner begins to wail over the loss of his weapon. The sparking increases, and stray spells begin shooting out of the broken center in every which direction. Nightwing dives for cover behind a pile of trash, and motions for Red Robin to do the same.

Suddenly, the sparking stops. Dick can see Tim peeking his head out from behind a row of trashcans, seeing if the wand has exhausted itself and finally died, then it spontaneously explodes in a blinding white light. Nightwing ducks again. The light fades just as suddenly as it had started. Cautiously, Dick stands, emerging from behind the trash bags to survey the damage.

In the center of the alley, where the wizard had collapsed, now lies a tiny white bunny. It’s small, small enough to fit in Dick’s hand with room to spare. He gulps, then slowly approaches the trashcans behind which Tim had been hiding. “Red Robin?” he calls, and his stomach drops when he doesn’t get an answer. Peering behind the cans, all he sees is Tim’s costume on the ground.

Immediately, Dick throws the cans aside and drops to the ground, digging through the costume. He’s not sure what exactly he’s looking for, but what he finds definitely isn’t it. A white egg, slightly larger than the average chicken egg, is swaddled in the kevlar fabric of Tim’s suit.

He carefully cradles the egg in his hand, then taps his comm. “Nightwing to Batman,” he sighs, “We’ve got a problem.”

 

* * *

 

Bruce frowns, looking over the Batcomputer. Each screen displays different information about ducks and their eggs and how to best incubate the eggs. As far as they can tell, Tim has been turned into American Pekin duck egg. Alfred is out fetching an artificial incubator to best ensure Tim’s survival while Dick paces back and forth in front of their makeshift , temporary incubator.

They’re not sure if the spell is permanent yet – Zatanna’s been contacted and will make a visit sometime tomorrow to do a quick diagnosis – or how it will affect Tim if it wears off. If the spell wears off before he hatches, it’s entirely possible he could turn back into a fetus instead of his normal, 19-year-old self.

Pekin eggs are supposed to hatch about 28 days to hatch after being laid. As far as Bruce can tell after a quick scan, Tim’s egg is only a few days away from hatching, so Alfred is also out buying a specialized “hatcher,” which should increase Tim’s survivability. All preliminary scans indicate that Tim is a healthy and normal developing Pekin duckling. He’s not a human/duck hybrid, nor is he a tiny human in a duck egg.

Footsteps coming down the Cave’s stairs interrupt their thoughts. Alfred descends the stairs with Damian not far behind, both holding large shopping bags with boxes inside. Bruce stands and moves to assist Alfred with assembling the incubator while Damian places his bags on the ground and moves closer to inspect Tim’s egg.

He tuts. “It figures that Drake would be careless enough to get himself turned into an _egg_ ,” the boy says derisively. “He’s lucky you were there to preserve his foolish life, Grayson.”

Dick sighs. “Damian, now is not the time to be throwing insults at Tim, okay?” He’s not in the mood, and he’s blaming himself enough as it is. If he hadn’t broken the wand, Tim wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Damian huffs and walks away, muttering under his breath as he takes a seat in his father’s unoccupied chair.

Within a few minutes, Bruce and Alfred have the incubator set up and running. All instructions say to let the incubator sit for at least 24 hours so as to stabilize before putting any eggs in, but they don’t have that kind of time. With a few careful adjustments from Bruce, the incubator is almost heated up and ten minutes later it is ready for Tim.

They carefully bring Tim and the incubator upstairs to Tim’s room, where they hope the familiar environment will have a positive effect. Dick curls up in Tim’s bed, keeping a careful eye on the white egg that holds his brother inside.

 

* * *

 

Dick is the one keeping watch when Tim begins to hatch. He’s looking over some case notes (read: pestering Babs with texts) when he first hears the faint cracking sound. At first, he can’t tell where it’s coming from, and brushes it off as a branch tapping against the window. But then it comes again, louder, and Dick looks over at Tim’s egg to find it rocking slightly. He leaps to his feet, files forgotten, as he uses the Manor’s intercom system to inform Alfred that Tim has begun to hatch.

“C’mon, Timmy, you can do it, you can do it…” he urges as he lies down on the floor in front of the incubator. The egg twitches again, Tim tapping against the inside as he tries to free himself.

Alfred comes up a few minutes later, supplies in hand. “Master Dick, I have called Master Bruce to inform him of the young sir’s hatching. He wishes me to inform you that he will leave work as soon as possible, but he expects the hatching process to take at least two hours.”

Dick nods, still thoroughly entranced by the efforts of his baby brother. This time when the egg rocks Dick can see a small crack forming. “Yeah! Go Timmy!” he cheers, pulling out his phone so he can take pictures and send them to Bruce.

Oh, and to use as blackmail for when the spell eventually wears off (as Zatanna told them it would) and Tim returns to normal.

He can hear faint chirping from inside the egg, and he smiles. Tim’s really making an effort! Ten minutes later, however, the initial crack is barely any bigger. He knows he shouldn’t worry and that hatching is naturally a long process, but Dick can’t help but want to just break open the egg himself. He knows this is something Tim has to do on his own, though, so he keeps his hands off the shell and settles for staying nearby in case help is needed.

Bruce comes in about an hour and a half into the hatching process. By then, there’s a hole big enough for Dick to see Tim’s head moving around inside the shell. The vigilante settles awkwardly on the floor by Dick, looking unsure and out-of-place in his expensive work suit.

“He’s doing well so far,” Bruce says after a moment. “Have you had to help him at all?” Dick shakes his head, looking proud.

“Nope, Timmy’s done this all by himself!” The chirping has gotten louder now that Tim’s head is more or less free, and he chirps loudly upon hearing Bruce’s voice. “Looks like he recognizes you!” Dick grins, “He chirped for me and Alfred, too. I think our Timmy might be in there somewhere!”

“Hm,” Bruce intones, “It would certainly make things easier.”

There’s another loud crack as Tim breaks off another portion of his shell. He’s almost free now, but he looks exhausted from the effort. Dick snaps another picture on his phone and sends it to Jason, who has been avoiding the Manor since Tim’s incident so he won’t get saddled with eggsitting duties. Dick’s phone beeps with a text alert.

 _From: Li’l Wing  
_ _mmm, roast duck for dinner :D_

Dick frowns when he reads the text, but knows that Jason’s just kidding. Hopefully. His phone beeps again with another text from his younger brother.

 _From: Li’l Wing  
_ _seriously that looks more like a drowned rat than a duckling r u sure that’s rly replacement_

Well…Dick can’t really argue with him there. Newly hatched ducklings aren’t exactly as fuzzy and fluffy as pictures make them out to be. Tim’s still wet from the fluid inside his egg, and all the hatching sites say that it’ll be about eight hours before he dries off completely and becomes fluffy. 

Tim chirps again, quieter this time. Though cracking an eggshell doesn’t seem to be that hard for a human, it’s obviously taking a lot out of poor Tim. The duckling takes a short breather, dark eyes wide and inquisitive as they search his surroundings.

“Hey, Timbo,” Dick smiles gently down at Tim, who chirps again in response. “You don’t have that much further to go! You’re doing great, keep it up!” Bruce stares intently at the shell as though he’ll spontaneously develop heat vision and crack Tim out of his shell by himself. He estimates that if Tim can just get rid of one last piece, he should be able to climb out of the shell.

As if encouraged by Dick’s words, Tim pecks at his shell again, pushing hard enough to crack off the one last piece Bruce thought he would need to escape. It leaves just enough space for Tim to crawl out of the shell, and Dick cheers.

“You did it! _Woo!_ ” He takes out his phone again, taking a picture and sending it to Steph. She’s in the middle of class, but has ordered that she be kept as up to date as possible on Tim’s condition whenever she can’t be at the Manor.

 _From: Steph [eggplant emoji]  
_ _AWWW HE’S SO CUTE give him a kiss from me when he’s dried off ok?_

Dick snorts. As if she even needs to ask!

 

* * *

 

Dick takes over Tim’s care and keeping, so it’s really no surprise that the little duckling imprints on him. Dick doesn’t mind at all, carrying Tim almost everywhere he goes. He teaches him how to walk and how to swim, sticking him in the bathtub before they move to larger bodies of water like the Manor’s fancy fountains.

The only problem with the bathtub is that Tim can never manage to climb out of one without someone’s help.

One day, Dick is in the master bathroom with Tim working on his daily swimming lesson when he gets a call from Donna, who he hasn’t talked to in a while. After quickly informing Tim that he really needs to take this call (they’ve decided to keep talking to Tim just as though he’s human), he steps out of the room.

At first Tim is fine and continues to work on his swimming, but after a while he begins to get nervous when Dick doesn’t come back. He grows frantic, quacking as loudly as he can and anxiously trying to crawl up the sleek inside of the tub. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t escape, and after 45 minutes of Dick not returning, he gives up and just floats despondently in the water.

Eventually, he dozes off, wondering if Dick will ever return for him.

He’s not sure how long he’s asleep when suddenly the door opens again. His head shoots up and he quacks, trying to look over the edge of the tub for Dick. Instead, Bruce walks in, towel folded over his arm to indicate that he was just about to take a bath.

“Tim?” he draws short when he sees his adopted son floating in the water with some bath toys. Tim quacks again, pedaling as hard as he can, trying to get out of the tub. Bruce sighs. “Did Dick forget about you?” Another frantic quack. Bruce takes pity and hangs his towel on the rack, then reaches down and retrieves Tim from the tub.

He holds the exhausted duckling out in front of him for a moment, looking like he’s wondering how his life ever got so bizarre, then carefully draws Tim close to his chest. He feels Tim’s heart rate begin to drop as he relaxes, and then the next thing Bruce knows, Tim is asleep. He stands there awkwardly in the middle of the bathroom with his dozing duckling son in his hands, wondering what to do.

After a moment, Bruce decides that taking a page out of Tim’s book doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. He’s had a long day at work, anyway, and could use the rest before he heads out for patrol later tonight. He decides he’ll wash up later, and that a nap sounds very tempting at the moment. Carefully, he lowers himself down onto the soft blankets of his bed, dozing off as Tim slumbers peacefully on his chest.

(A half an hour later, Dick bursts in, horrified that he left Tim alone for so long, but he catches sight of him asleep on Bruce’s chest and breathes a deep sigh of relief. He then decides a nap doesn’t sound so bad, and flops down next to Bruce.)

 

* * *

 

When Jason kicks in the door one day with a shopping bag in his hand and an evil grin on his face, Tim knows there’s going to be trouble.

“ _Baby bird~!_ ” he croons in a decidedly wicked manner, plopping the bag down on the floor and sitting down in front of Tim. Tim hopes Dick returns from the bathroom soon, because Jaosn is Bad News when left alone with him. “I got you something,” Jason says, pulling two boxes out of the bag. He places them on the ground in front of Tim so that the duckling can see what they are.

Tim stares. Looks up at Jason. Looks back down at the boxes. Looks back up at Jason, and wishes he had laser vision so he could burn a hole in Jason’s head.

Sitting in front of him are two sets of rubber duckies – a Young Justice team set, and a Batman Incorporated set. 

“I thought you might want some other ducklings to keep you company,” Jason says slyly _._ He opens the boxes, dumping out the rubber duckies in front of him. He picks two specific ones out and places them on either side of Tim – the Batgirl one on his right, and the Superboy one on his left. “I brought you your boyfriend and girlfriend,” he says with a wicked smirk.

Tim quacks as menacingly as he can – that is to say, not very menacingly at all.

His embarrassment only grows worse when Dick bounds back in, catches sight of the rubber duckies scattered around him (Jason somehow mysteriously long gone), and _squeals_.

 

* * *

 

Even though Barbara’s been helping them out a lot since Tim first came down with his… _condition_ , she hasn’t actually been around the Manor until now. Dick had called her up, asking if she would come and distract Tim a bit so he could go out for a quick jog and stretch his muscles. It’s cute that Tim has imprinted on Dick and all, but even Dick needs a few seconds to himself here and there.

Barbara obliges without any protest – she’s kind of been looking forward to seeing Tim herself for a while now.

She finds it’s easy enough to distract Tim – all she has to do is pick a book off his shelves and read to him. Apparently he hasn’t been able to read in his current state, so the stories are a warm welcome to him.

By the time Dick returns from his run, sweaty and breathing hard, Tim is fast asleep in her lap.

 

* * *

 

 Dick decides (without Alfred’s consent) that Tim is doing so well in his swimming that he can try swimming in the fancy fountains out on the grounds. So, one day, he gathers Tim up in his arms and brings him out back to one of the fountains, carefully placing Tim in the water.

At first, Tim is fine. The cool water feels good against his stomach and the sun is warm on his back and Dick is sitting right next to him in case something goes wrong. But then…

He feels something nibbling at his feet.

Quacking in surprise, he flaps his wings (still not strong or developed enough for flight) and looks around in panic. Dick starts, then laughs when he finds the source of Tim’s fright – goldfish.

He’d forgotten about the colorful goldfish Alfred keeps in the fountains for decoration, and it appears they were proving to be nuisance to Timmy. They swim up underneath the duckling, curious mouths opening and closing as they inspect the foreign feet in their water just as they would a finger.

Tim isn’t nearly as amused as Dick, however, and keeps flapping his wings in hopes that he’ll suddenly be able to fly and escape the fish. Dick gently scoops up Tim, holding him just above the surface of the water so he can see the goldfish that had been pestering him.

Tim quacks angrily, snapping his beak at the fish like he’s threatening them, and Dick just laughs.

 

* * *

 

Steph is one of the few people Tim is okay with being left with for extended periods of time without Dick around, and she enjoys every second of it. Her favorite thing to do with Tim is to pet him as she talks, because now he can’t interrupt her or say the stupid things that Boy Blunders tend to do around Batgirls.

“So Tim, I was thinking. Mother’s Day is coming up soon – okay, it’s like two months away, but _anyway_ – and I really wanna get my mom something nice this year, y’know? But the problem is I’m short on cash and stuff. It’s hard to keep a job when you’re in college _and_ Batgirl, _ugh_. Do you have any ideas?”

He quacks in response, and she grins. “Knitting? Cute, but May is very late to wear anything knitted…” Steph likes holding these conversations with Tim. She can’t understand a thing he says (quacks), but they have a nice flow and it’s almost like she can pretend she has her dorky Robin back by her side.

“Oh!” She perks up, “That reminds me!” She carefully places Tim on the couch beside her, then dashes down to the Cave to grab the present she brought with her. She’s back not even two minutes later with something fuzzy and red in her hands. Before Tim can see what it is, she shoves it over his head. Quacking in surprise, he tries to squirm out of her grasp. She lets go, sitting back to admire her work.

“I made you a sweater!” Steph beams, pulling a compact out of her purse so Tim can see the tiny imitation of the Robin suit he now wears. “Your Red Robin suit is boring and too complicated, so I made you a Robin one instead!” Despite himself, Tim can’t be mad at her. The sweater _is_ warm and comfortable, and she made it with love. He nuzzles his head up against her knee to show his appreciation, and she coos.

“Aw Timmy, c’mere…” She picks him up, placing a gentle kiss on his soft head, and his eyes curl closed in pleasure. He missed being this close to Steph.

 

* * *

 

Cass is very perplexed when it comes to Tim. She could read his body language perfectly easily when she was a human, but now that he’s an awkward little duckling it’s more complicated. She can tell his human instincts are warring with his duck ones, making it difficult to tell what exactly is going on inside his head.

He’s comfortable around her, that much she can understand. She is safe, and so far it seems like he’s okay with being left around her when Dick isn’t there.

Sometimes, Tim sits with her when she watches “soaps” (that’s what Stephanie calls them – she doesn’t understand what’s so soapy about the shows). Cass rambles on and comments on how the actors are obviously bored of their roles, of how they don’t find the plots of believable, of how much they just want to go home, etcetera, and Tim simply quacks in agreement.

Other times, Cass brings him along when she goes out shopping. She sticks Tim in her purse so only his head sticks out, and goes to buy new clothes for the upcoming summer season or gets tea. Tim’s polite enough to close his eyes and give her privacy (not that she minds, but apparently he does) as she changes, so in return, she lets him eat the berries that come with her dessert. It’s Gotham, so no one comments on the fact that she has a duckling in her purse.

Well, almost no one.

“Ma’am, please read the sign. It says no pets allowed – I’m afraid that applies to your… _duckling_.”

Cass looks up from the shoe rack (the sneakers she wears in her off time are starting to get worn out, so she’s been out looking for a suitable replacement). A stern-looking middle-aged man with frown lines and gray temples frowns down at her, glaring at Tim who is sitting innocently in her purse.

When she doesn’t reply immediately, the man – Marshall, his nametag reads – scowls even more. “Do you speak English?” he asks slowly, speaking as though she’s an imbecile. “I said, _please leave your pet outside._ ” He reaches forward as if too take her purse from her, and faster than Marshall can blink she has his wrist in the firm grasp of her hand.

“I can understand you,” she says with an icy tone in her voice, squeezing his hand with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. She lets him sweat for a moment, then lets go. Placing the shoes she’d been looking at back on the rack, she absently rubs Tim on the head as she brushes past the man. “Let’s go, Tim, I’m sure we can find better shoes at a more friendly place.”

Tim manages to twist his head around to give Marshall as dirty a look as he can manage, then quacks in agreement.

 

* * *

 

Perhaps the worst part about being a duck is Damian’s menagerie. Every single one of the animals is larger than Tim (even Alfred the cat, who’s put on some weight since Alfred the human has started feeding him), and the Batcow is the only one who doesn’t have it out for him.

So far, Tim’s family has done a remarkable job of keeping the small zoo away from Tim, but even _they_ have to slip up sometime…

Dick leaves Tim sitting on the counter next to his breakfast one morning when he goes to help Alfred bring something in from the car. With Dick out of the room and Tim by himself, Alfred the cat and Titus seem to find this as an open opportunity to try and eat Tim.

The cat/dog team works together surprisingly well. Alfred hops up on the counter and slowly approaches the panicking Tim, while Titus remains on the floor and settles for sticking his head as far up on the counter as he can – that is, very far – to crowd Tim up against the wall.

Tim quacks loudly and frantically, calling for Dick or Alfred to come and save him from Damian’s monsters as he waddles away from the duo as quickly as he can. It turns out waddling backwards is not an easy thing to do when you’re a duck, but Tim’s not willing to turn his back on the cat just so he can walk forwards. He knocks Dick’s breakfast off the counter in his rush, but the broken plate and scattered food are deemed inconsequential in comparison to his life at the present moment. He’s just been backed into the corner, eyes squeezed shut, with no way to escape when a sharp voice interrupts his near-death experience.

“Titus? Alfred? What on _earth_ are you foolish animals doing?” Small arms pick him up and hold him close, keeping him safe from danger. Tim hesitantly cracks open his eyes and for a second, he thinks he must be hallucinating, because _no way_ did Damian Wayne save him from the menagerie. Titus and Alfred are backing away from their owner, though reluctantly, and Tim really is convinced he actually died in their attack because _this is not actually happening_.

“Tt. I can’t believe Grayson was so foolish as to leave you out in the open unattended, Drake,” Damian tuts. He can feel Drake’s heartbeat pounding almost impossibly fast against his chest, and he frowns. Drake is more likeable in this form – unable to talk, make rude comments, or compose hit lists that include him, etc. – so he doesn’t feel as bad about rescuing him from his animals as he would have if he were human. “You are impossible,” he sighs, setting Tim down at his original place on the counter while he cleans up Dick’s breakfast. Titus and Alfred don’t dare to attack Tim now while their master is in the room, so Tim is at least somewhat safe.

When Damian finishes cleaning, he sits down in Dick’s seat, waiting for his eldest brother to return so Tim won’t be left unattended. He doesn’t say anything else, and both pretend not to notice how Damian reaches up and begins petting Tim.

Dick returns a few minutes later with an armful of grocery bags in his hands, which he almost drops on the ground when Damian tells him what happened while he was outside. He carefully sets the bags down on the counter, then ushers Tim into his grasp, holding him close and pressing a gentle kiss on his head.

“Oh Timmy, I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. Damian rolls his eyes and leaves the room, taking Alfred and Titus with him. Finally, with the threats gone, Tim truly feels safe. He nuzzles his head into his big brother’s chest, forgetting decorum for the moment because _fuck it, he was almost **killed** by Damian’s pets._ He thinks he’s allowed to want a little comfort right now.

He can’t wait until he’s human again.

 

* * *

 

Finally, almost two months after he was first changed, the spell on Tim wears off. It’s two in the morning and he’s asleep on Dick’s chest when the change happens, leaving him naked and both of them bewildered.

“B-blanket!” Tim manages to get out, unused to talking after so long only being able to quack. He eagerly swaps out his crossed hands for the sheet Dick throws his way to cover himself up. Dick props himself up on one arm, looking very dazed and confused and half asleep as Tim digs through his drawers for a pair of boxers and a pajama shirt.

“Tim?” he mumbles, “That r’lly you?” He blinks a few times, rubbing his eyes as if he doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

“Yes,” Tim responds as he quickly pulls on his boxers and worn Gotham Knights tee shirt.

“Huh,” is all Dick can say. “Finally.” He lays back down on the bed, patting beside him. “C’mere. Back to sleep, ‘s too early.” Tim smiles, obliging as curls up next to his cuddle octopus of an older brother.

He thinks Dick might’ve imprinted on him more than he did on Dick, but either way he’s had two months to get used to Dick’s constant cuddles and isn’t about to start complaining or protesting now. 

**Author's Note:**

> Is it bad that I actually have another fic similar to this in the works? I have an addiction, I think…
> 
> also fun fact
> 
> according to google ducks sometimes eat like grit or dirt or stuff to help with digestion so i was originally going to have damian sneaking tim dirt to eat so he could have even more blackmail to use on him when he turned back but i decided i wanted to show how damian wayne is actually a disney princess when it comes to animals instead :D


End file.
